Genres of Chack
by CrystallicSky
Summary: All the writing genres I could think of in one sitting turned into Chack! :D CHACK, ONESHOT, THREE SHORTS DEALING WITH MPREG OUT OF NINE TOTAL: IF YOU AREN'T A FAN OF SUCH, YOU NEED NOT READ 'FAMILY', 'TRAGEDY', OR 'ANGST.'


**Genres of Chack  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters.**

**Warnings: All sorts; violence, gore, probably some language, mpreg, etc.**

Adventure- Heart thumping loudly in his chest, his breathing harsh, Jack was forced to realize that it was not a good situation at the moment: pursuers gaining on them, cornered at the edge of a cliff, and Chase, the only one he knew who was capable of taking out a hundred or so warriors single-handedly, was _severely_ incapacitated. Things were looking pretty bad. All of a sudden, however, the genius remembered an, admittedly obvious way out of it (nearly facepalming at not having thought of it earlier) and turned to his lover, who hung almost entirely limp against him. "Chase," he asked gently but with a definite sense of urgency, "are you strong enough to hold onto me?" The warlord couldn't even pick his head up, the toxin he'd been poisoned with still coursing heavily through him, but he was sure he could at least do as the boy was asking him. "Yes," he breathed in firm assurance, tightening his arms around the goth. "Alright," Jack tightened his grip on his lover as well, "then you'd best hold the fuck on!" Just as those hunting them reached the edge of the cliff, the albino's helipack was activated, and the natives were unable to do anything but yell and shake their weapons threateningly at their lost preys' retreating figures. "Whew," Jack sighed in relief, coming down from the adrenaline high as the reality of having escaped began to set in, "that was close; what the fuck is _their_ problem? Try to enjoy a goddamn vacation, and a bunch of natives try to kill your boyfriend!" The wind on him was helpful in sobering the warlord a bit, and Chase was able to inform, "They are an ancient race of peoples with beliefs similar to the Aztecs: they could see that I was a warrior, and determined that cutting out and devouring _my_ heart as opposed to yours would bring them the greatest power." "Oh," the goth realized, "well, that still sucks. You can't just go around eating peoples' hearts; not cool." There was silence for a good deal of time, and Jack focused his attention on flying, his natural, internal GPS system telling him exactly where he was in relation to home. "Spicer?" The albino's ears perked, and he answered, "Yeah, Chase?" "You acted very responsibly in a time of crisis. You didn't panic, even when you realized that I could not save us this time. You did very well, Spicer, and I am proud to call you my lover." And with that, the warlord managed an affectionate, if somewhat weak kiss to the goth's cheek. Jack blushed, even as he grinned wide enough to put the Joker to shame. "Well," he admitted, "at least it was one hell of an adventure!"

Drama- _"Geoff, there's…someone else." "Grandpa?!"_ "What the hell do you see in this crappy daytime-television drama?" Chase looked to the goth beside him on the couch and informed, "I am not entitled to a guilty pleasure, Spicer? You don't see me complaining when you force me to watch your foolish _children's_ show." "Hey," Jack immediately defended, "Crashbox is win, and you know it!"

Family- Jack couldn't help but feel so _horribly_ cliché rocking back and forth in this chair that had been made for just such a purpose, but right now, it was just too _nice_ to stop doing it. "Mother, what are you doing in here alone?" The young man's eyes shot open and he glanced to the doorway to see his snow-white daughter standing there, frowning at him disapprovingly. "Its dangerous for you to be alone right now, mother; what if something were to happen? You would be completely helpless." Jack smiled at her despite her reprimands. "I know, sweetheart, I know." He patted his lap, indicating that he wanted her to sit on it. "I'm sorry. I swear I'll be more careful in the future, Zhu." "I hope so for your sake," the little girl spoke, climbing up to her more feminine parent. "You should always have me or father with you at all times." Jack couldn't help but grin at his Zhu and the lecture she was giving him: she was only four years old and already speaking perfectly coherently, a sure sign that she'd inherited the Spicer brain. Her attitude, however, was as sophisticated and frigid as her father's, and simply talking to her reminded the gothic parent that _Chase Young_ had had a child with him: it was really nice. "How do you feel today, mother?" Zhu wondered, her pretty, pink eyes blinking coolly up at him. "Fine," he answered truthfully, running his white fingers through her long, silky hair of the same shade. "Back hurts a little, but that's normal when you're toting a kid with you everywhere you go." The girl gave a noise of acknowledgement and placed her small, delicate hands (only deceptively delicate, of course; in reality, they were already able to do significant damage thanks to the tutelage of her father) upon Jack's rather distended belly. "I neglected to ask," she recalled. "How is my baby brother?" "He's fine, too," the albino assured with a soft grin. "He doesn't kick very much anymore, though." "I wouldn't worry about that," Zhu informed. "He's too big to kick much now; I stopped moving around the same time, as well." This statement gave Jack pause, and he put his hands upon his albino daughter's shoulders, inquiring, "You actually…remember that far back?" "Of course." The pale girl pressed her cheek to her mother's round stomach, her eyes falling shut. "Genetic anomaly or not, your womb was comfortable; so warm and cozy…" One of Zhu's rare smiles came to her face, and she sighed, "I wouldn't have traded you for any female mother in the world, even if you only rarely spoke to me." Jack's expression softened and he hugged his daughter despite how difficult the size of his stomach made the action. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he cooed sympathetically, "I had no idea if you could even hear me; when I _did_ talk to you, I felt silly." "Don't worry about it, mother," the girl giggled, "it did not affect me as much as that. I am not as weak of heart as you." "…" Jack stared at her long and hard, a frown on his face. "Pardon?" Zhu giggled again at his annoyance. "I didn't mean anything nasty by it, mother," she smirked, her mouth taking on the exact shape of Chase Young's when he did the same. "I only meant that you…_and_ my baby brother," she added as an afterthought, "are more susceptible to emotional matters than father and I. I take no offense that you spoke to me little before I was born, and I am only trying to make the point that you should speak to him," she rubbed one of her small hands against her parent's stomach in reference to the baby, "more often. I'm sure he will remember as far back as I do unless he was conceived by a moron instead of father-" "Fat chance," Jack scoffed. "I wouldn't touch a man that's not your father even if I was offered an amount of money so large it's imaginary!" Zhu smiled again and once more rested her cheek on Jack's stomach. "Good," she asserted. They rocked upon the rocking chair in silence for a moment before the little girl spoke up once more. "Have you decided what you're going to name him?" she inquired. Jack made a 'hmm' noise in the back of his throat, biting his lip gently. "You're sure it's a boy?" he questioned of her. "I'm positive," Zhu assured him confidently; she had begun forming a bond with her soon-to-be sibling, and she could not be surer that she was going to have a brother. "Well," the gothic parent delegated, "there is _one_ name I like; when I thought you were a boy, it would've been your name." Pink eyes glared at him, and Jack grinned, defending, "I didn't have access to ultrasound equipment or anything, and you sure _kicked_ like a boy! It's not like I think you're one now or anything." This seemed to appease her, and she questioned, "What's the name then?" "I haven't talked it over with your father yet," he shrugged, "but I was thinking of the name Lucian." "Lucian is a fine name," Chase spoke, emerging from the shadows of the nursery room in his usual way. Zhu, definitely a daddy's girl already, looked up at his entrance, politely greeting, "Father." The warlord deftly plucked her from his beloved's lap, holding her securely against him. "Hello to you, too, my pearl." The young girl watched from her father's arms as her parents shared a fond kiss. "Mm, you're okay with calling our son Lucian, then?" Jack wondered hopefully, breaking away from the kiss. "Of course, Spicer," Chase assured with a grin, "it is only fair that you be allowed to choose his name, seeing as I took the liberty of naming our first child." Wordlessly, Zhu snuggled into the man's arms, happy to feel them tighten around her protectively. A little brother on the way, a beautiful home, tons of pets, and of course, two parents deeply in love; truly, what more could a girl want?

Tragedy- Chase stared down at his two children with a grave expression, matching the seriousness of the situation. Zhu mimicked his look perfectly; arms at her side, standing up straight, and saying nothing until spoken to first. Her brother, however, stood beside her in contrast; hands fisting nervously, posture somewhat slouched, and what looked like monumental effort keeping him from demanding to know what he wanted to know. The warlord appreciated that effort, knowing his son's nature, and informed, "Your mother will live." He heard a sigh of relief from both of them, but Lucian's, whose bond with his maternal parent was strongest, was louder; a momma's boy, though he'd protest it vehemently if accused. "However," he saw their forms tense again, "he is not well right now. Unfortunately, he may never be." Lucian scowled immediately, demanding, "Why? What'd that bastard do to him?!" Jack had been kidnapped several days ago by none other than Hannibal Bean in the effort of causing strife in the Young household; he had been tortured for days when the three of them finally found the albino man, and by then, he'd already been quite damaged. Chase had to admit he was proud of his son, who normally tended to stay away from the combat aspect of things, for becoming so infuriated by the sight of his mother unconscious and covered in blood that he managed to tap into his reptilian form (as even his warrior sister had not yet been able to do) and maul the legume to nothing more than bits and pieces. "What Bean did to Jack is unforgivable, Lucian." The warlord saw golden eyes the same shade as his own burn in worry and other mixed emotions, and in being merciful to the more emotional of his children, he bluntly stated, "He cut out your mother's uterus." Chase saw both of them freeze, horrified at the news. "M…mother…can't bear children anymore?" Zhu inquired, looking as if she were doing her best not to react badly. Lucian was totally silent. The warlord continued, "He is mostly healed from all of his other injuries, but he will not budge from the bed; I believe he is in shock, or more likely, simply devastated." "…didn't you and mom decide not to have any more kids, anyway?" the youngest child of the two asked almost hesitantly. "Yes," Chase admitted, "we did decide that, but you must understand the difference between _choosing_ to stop procreating and not being _able_ to. When we had simply _chosen_ not to have any more children, Spicer still _could_ have them should we ever have changed our minds. Now, that is impossible: even if we decided we wanted more children, he could not have them, and I believe that knowledge could very well kill him." "What can we do for him?" his daughter asked, her normally cool expression showing a hint of desperation. "There is nothing you _can_ do," he said, "except offer him your support as his family. He needs it now." Before he'd even fully finished speaking, his son was gone, purposefully heading towards his parents' shared bedroom; Chase and Zhu almost immediately followed.

Angst- Jack sat alone on the bed, knees up against his chest; silently contemplating the horrifying reality of things as they now were. Granted, he'd never asked to be able to have kids, but…to take it away after he'd known how nice it was to _have_ children? Pure, unadulterated cruelty. The door slammed open, and the man glanced up, his eyes going wide to see his son storm into the room and climb up onto the bed, sitting just before him; his daughter and the love of his life only lingered at the doorway a moment longer before doing the same, Zhu to his left and Chase behind him. Confused, he glanced from one to the other to the other, trying to figure out what they were up to. He started with Lucian, the easiest to read: the twelve-year-old dressed all in black was quiet, much too quiet considering he had a rather familiar tendency to run at the mouth. Lucian's stocky build seemed tense, and upon glancing to the boy's lip, this theory was confirmed upon seeing him tonguing at his false lip ring (a real one would hurt too much and he'd only wanted it for the look, not for _ever_) as he did when he was nervous. His somewhat short, black hair was a bit in his eyes, as well, another cue that he did not feel happy at the moment; the youth had explained it to him once that he felt safer in weird situations if he could sort of hide behind the single, bright orange streak of bangs that he'd so dyed. Jack looked to his son's eyes, a crystal clear window to Lucian's thoughts and feelings for any answer he could find. In the youth's golden eyes, he saw empathy; it hurt Lucian to know that he was hurting, and he wanted desperately to make it better. He looked to his daughter next, to discover why she was here. Her tall, slim body knelt beside him, back ruler-straight and legs perfectly tucked beneath her, but then that word described her in all things: perfect. She was some sort of angel, she had to be, Jack decided; there was no other way something as refined and gorgeous as her could have come from him. Lucian he could understand, because he, at least, was gothic. Zhu…Zhu was true to her name: a beautiful, flawless pearl of a girl…or rather, young woman. She was already sixteen, Jack mused to himself; God, how time flies… The man looked at his daughter, noticing that she wore a pale pink cheongsam today that was stunning on her, her long, straight hair falling flawlessly past her shoulders and down her back. Her rose quartz eyes, while normally about as cool as the stone itself were warm, and today, Jack could actually read them. She did not understand his pain like her brother did; she was not such a person, and did not feel the type of pain that this was. It was clear, however, that Zhu knew there _was_ pain, a fact which upset her. Finally, the albino looked to his lover; Chase didn't need a reason for being there, as he could be wherever he wanted with no explanation necessary. Still, he was curious… Chase, the powerful, gorgeous, perfect warlord; _his_ Chase was looking at him with soft eyes somewhere in the middle of where their children's expressions had been: he, like Zhu, did not understand what he was feeling, but like Lucian, he hurt because Jack hurt, and he would do anything in his power to fix that. Jack wasn't quite sure what happened, but the next thing he knew, he was clinging to his son and sobbing like a two-year-old, his daughter putting her arms around the two of them and Chase embracing all three of them. It was good to get this out, he guessed, and his tears soon slowed under Lucian's stroking of his back, Zhu's petting of his hair, and Chase's presence. Sniffling quietly, he said to his children, "You know, I guess I'm never gonna have any more kids like you guys…" Lucian made a noise of pain in the back of his throat, holding him tighter. "That's okay, though," he decided, feeling three sets of eyes fix on him in confusion. Jack gave a somewhat watery smile, assuring, "You guys are the best family I could hope for anyways; besides, it's not like you're going anywhere, right?" "The hell I am," Lucian snorted firmly. "Never, mother," Zhu agreed. Jack glanced behind him for further assurance, causing Chase to scoff. "If I was going anywhere, I would have done so already, Spicer," the warlord promised him. "Well, then," the man admitted, "this totally sucks, but with you guys…" He smiled brightly, thoroughly enclosed by the three people that made him the happiest. "I think I'll get through it."

Fantasy- Chase had not heard from his lover in a good while, and he was beginning to become concerned. Of course, he knew the young creature felt spritely urges quite strongly and could not remain in one location for extended periods of time, his attention span _far_ too short for that; he understood that well enough, as his own nature was not too unalike it. After all, when one's lower body was that of a powerful stallion, it was next to impossible to ignore the fact that it had been made for an express purpose: galloping and running free, not standing about and doing nothing. Still, his Jack had not checked in with him for much longer than his usual absences and Chase was getting worried that something had happened to him; no stretch of the imagination considering all the reveling the boy got up to with his kin. A sly whistle suddenly caught the centaur's ear, and he turned to face the source of it to see none other than his beloved Jack, beckoning him with one finger as he winked rather lecherously. The tan stallion rolled his eyes at the 'interested' anatomy further down on the creature, giving him a good idea of just why Jack had actually returned. "So that's why you're back," he commented with a raised eyebrow, putting one hand upon where his hip would be were he human. "I suppose it's a good thing I made you promise never to fuck another, else you wouldn't _ever_ return to me." Jack had the decency to look offended and whined, "You _know_ my buddies throw wild parties; I just forget to come home sometimes if it's a really good one…" Chase caught the clenching of the albino's fists at his sides, a sign of his monumental effort to not simply masturbate and run off to another party. He sighed and trotted over to the satyr, deftly groping at his soft, rear flank; the short, white tail almost immediately brushed against his wrist as it wagged, indicating Jack's pleasure at the action. Chase smirked and used his other hand to press the slim, pale body against his front, to which his lover nearly squealed in glee and snuggled up against him. "You are lucky I tolerate your antics," he said, to which Jack nodded in agreement, rubbing his cheek affectionately to the older creature's chest (mindful, of course, of his horns). "I shall have you longer than two or three days this time?" "Mmhm," the satyr agreed, his tail once more wagging, "a whole week this time, I promise! I even wrote a new song for you; maybe I'll play it later…" The prospect of a whole week with his nymphomaniac of a lover _and_ getting to hear the beautiful sounds the young creature could coax from his flute were more than enough assurance for the centaur, and he abruptly spun Jack around, bending him over a rather convenient stump. "Fine, my horny goat," he purred, 'smug' the only word to describe him at the excitement he felt radiating off of his beloved, "let us get the worst of your 'problem' out of the way, first…"

Horror- Feeling hunger and bloodlust take him the second the bound and struggling human was thrown into his cage, Jack pounced, immediately going for the throat. He paid no mind whatsoever to the bright, golden eyes watching him from outside of the silver bars and enjoyed his dinner to the fullest, staining his white muzzle red with blood as he tore flesh away from bone by strips and chunks, occasionally making a game out of the carnage by tossing a bit up in the air and catching it in his mouth before slurping it into his gullet. Very soon mostly done with his meal, Jack took the time to muse on how he was particularly lucky to have his food brought to him, as it saved quite a lot of the trouble with hunting. The only drawbacks to the arrangement, he thought, having picked at as much flesh as he conceivably could and now idly gnawing upon what had likely been a femur, were that he could not leave this cage of poison that kept him weak and that he had to tolerate the constant presence of the lizard-beast. Speaking of the lizard-beast, it chose that moment to approach him, still in its human guise that did not fool Jack's keen senses, and the large wolf growled, both in caution and in warning. He was too weakened by the silver all around him to retaliate should this cold-blooded predator attack him, and so he was naturally wary of anything the reptile did. It got closer and closer to him until it stood just outside of the bars, and his ears went flat against his skull as a hand reached out at him. Before he could consider snapping at it, it was upon him, lightly pressing against his head in a stroking motion. This touch was gentle and pleasant, and so Jack ceased his growling but kept his ears back, assuring the lizard-thing that he did not yet trust it completely. Chase moved two of his fingers beneath one flattened ear, scratching just the way he knew the wolf liked and smirking to see both of the ears raise up slightly, the animal's fluffy white tail wagging slowly behind him. "Good boy," he spoke softly, being sure not to stop giving Jack the attention of his hands. This was only the third full moon he'd spent with his lover, and at last the creature was becoming better accustomed to him. A few more nights like these, and he might even be able to let Jack out of the cage after he'd eaten; not before, though, never before. He still had to be concerned over safety around this werewolf, and if the beast were hungry during their interaction, there would surely be a fight: Chase did not want to hurt his Jack, even if it was only to keep from being eaten. The warlord watched as a white muzzle, still caked with dried blood, poked as far past the silver bars of the cage as it could without making what would be incredibly painful contact with the metal, resting upon his lap in a submissive display before whining in want of attention. Realizing his hand had absently stopped it movement, the dragon renewed his scratching of Jack's ears, pleased to hear a low, content whimper. His Jack would love and trust him completely while in this form soon enough, Chase was sure, just as he did while he was human…

Humor- Jack scoffed to himself, looking through the newspaper and spotting something interesting. "Hey, Chase," he spoke, shaking his head in mild disbelief, "listen to this: At Walmart on Friday, police received a report of a newborn infant found in a trash can. Upon investigation, officers discovered it was only a burrito." The man blinked for a moment before laughing; not a chuckle or an evil laugh, but an honestly amused _laugh_. Jack was proud of himself for that, and with good reason: had anyone else read the article, or had someone else said even _the_ most humorous thing on the planet Earth, they wouldn't have gotten a single sound from Chase, and it was cool to know he could do that.

Hurt/Comfort- Chase Young had been shocked to find Jack Spicer at his door, his clothes torn and disheveled and his whole body shaking like a leaf, tearful red eyes looking up at him as he pathetically whined, "I…I didn't know where else to go…" The warlord had quickly brought the distraught teenager inside despite the rockiness of their relationship, knowing at once the severity of what had happened to the youth. Jack now shivered beside him on a couch before his fireplace, wrapped up in a blanket and staring at the roaring fire with dull eyes. "Spicer," the warlord spoke quietly, "are you alright?" "No," the goth answered, "definitely not." The boy sighed and apologized, "I'm sorry to bug you like this, Chase, I just…I really had nowhere else to go, and-" "Think not of it," Chase said to him. "I do not consider it 'bugging me' when you have a genuine problem." Jack said nothing to this, but the warlord could see the genius' hands wringing in his lap, the shaking of his body still not having subsided despite the fact that he was _surely_ warm by now. "Come here, Spicer," he ordered gently. The boy's eyes went wide and he made a low noise of apprehension, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect. "I swear on my honor that I shall not harm you." This appeased the goth a bit and he inched closer to his evil hero, sidling up next to him warily. Chase slowly put his arm around Jack's shoulders, making sure his every movement was predictable so as not to frighten the already terrified youth. They shared warmth for several minutes and the warlord was quite pleased to notice the young genius calming in his close proximity; Jack clearly felt safer around him. "…you're not gonna ask what happened?" the goth wondered eventually; he clearly was hoping for a 'no' so that he didn't have to relive it himself. "I am not," Chase assured. "I have no need to: your scent tells me all I need to know." Blood, fear, and sex could only mean one thing, after all. Jack shuddered at his statement, embarrassed that his idol _knew_, but the man gently rubbed at his arm in comforting him. "You are not at fault, Spicer," he promised. "You are the victim of a heinous and vile crime, no matter what you were told." "It…it's not my fault?" the goth asked him hesitantly. "By no means," Chase frowned. "Rape is the work of weak, disgusting fools who can only feel big through taking away another's will; it has absolutely nothing to do with the victim being provocative, sexually or otherwise." Jack leaned on him heavily for a long while. "Isn't…rape evil, though?" he asked at long last; the warlord did not miss the way the goth had to almost painfully force the word out of his mouth. "It is evil, yes," he admitted, "but it is possibly the lowest form of evil that exists. It is a sickening act, and unlike most 'crimes', there is no good motive in existence that can be given for it. Rape is inexcusable." "Mm," said Jack, once more staring at the fire. "You truly _should_ cry, Spicer," the man advised. "It is best to express your feelings on something like this instead of bottling them up; don't feel that you cannot do that in front of me." "S'not it," the goth said, biting his lip softly. "I just…I'm not ready to cry, yet, if that makes any sense…" Chase nodded in understanding. Jack twitched violently with a yelp as the man's arms wrapped around him without warning, and he had to stop himself from struggling when he remembered it was Chase holding him and not a huge, horny drunk twice his size. "You needn't worry, Spicer," the man purred soothingly, holding the boy's head to his chest. "No one shall ever lay a hand on you while I am here, I promise." Jack didn't even allow the thought that Chase was supposed to hate him cross his mind and he slowly fell into a calming, restful sleep, listening to the rhythmic beating of Chase's heart. The warlord looked at the youth's sleeping face, thankfully peaceful for the first time since entering the man's citadel; there would be hell to pay for this, he growled internally, his fingers absently threading through Spicer's limp, red hair. The boy's first time was supposed to have been _his_, not some nameless, violent pervert's! What was done was done, however, and it would be a long time before the albino felt fully comfortable with little things like _hugs_ much less sex. That was fine; Chase Young was a patient man, and for Jack's well-being, he could wait. The impudent bastard that had made the waiting necessary, on the other hand, would be feeling the _full_ brunt of his wrath: a fitting punishment, and the best one, the man supposed, was the removal of both arms, his tongue, and his manhood, thus making the disgusting animal unable to violate another as he did to _his_ Jack and then making him live the remainder of his life a mutilated freak. Of course, when the pain of the act wasn't so fresh in the goth's mind, Chase would be sure to let Jack know of the comeuppance the rapist had been given, for surely, he would appreciate it most.

Mystery- Chase Young decided to retire to bed at an even earlier time than the previous day that evening. As of the past several weeks, a feeling of…something missing had been niggling at the back of his mind consistently, but that was perfectly impossible: there was nothing missing from his life. He'd been drawn from a long period of boredom by a new generation of Xiaolin to toy with, and he was succeeding fabulously at it. Of course, why wouldn't he be? It wasn't as if he had any Heylin competition. Bean was still trapped in the Yin-Yang World with no hope of escape, and Wuya's imprisonment in the puzzle box she'd long ago been locked into was just as likely to end abruptly, and these things had easily allowed the warlord full reign of his field. Naturally, it was good to be king, but…still, a part of him roared in protest, told him that something was _horribly_ wrong; something _important_ was missing. The dreams he'd been having as of late were no help to his recent unease, either, especially considering how painfully _little_ of them he remembered in waking hours. Whenever he awoke from one of these dreams, the most he could recall were colors; a vibrant array of reds and whites and blacks and a youthful voice, crystal clear in his head, speaking, _"I love you, Chase…"_ Though there was nothing he could do about it, the man felt perfectly certain that whatever he was forgetting or going without was somehow reaching him in his dreams, and so it had begun to happen more and more often that he retreated to his bedroom earlier and earlier every night. Chase knew of no other way, and through sleep, at least, he could be with his elusive missing piece.

Romance- Without even truly meaning to, Chase's arms went around his lover's body as they watched the setting of the sun together, the array of orange and pink hues slowly blending into violet and black. The warlord quietly reflected that only Spicer could have so disarmed him to make this moment possible: no one else in the world could have gotten him to let his guard down to this extent.

Sci-Fi- When Jack had accepted his offer, Chase pondered to himself at the shocked and frightened expression the albino was giving him, it was likely he hadn't been expecting this. After all, the goth had _likely_ been expecting a nice, normal date with the him that was the sexy god of the school, not who he really was. He tilted his head to the side, wondering aloud, "Tell me, Spicer, what are you thinking right about now?" Jack flinched at his question, as if not having expected the voice of his long-time crush to be coming from the reptilian beast before him. Still flat on his rear end from having fallen backwards upon Chase's dropping of his human guise, the youth nonetheless replied in a somewhat squeaky voice, "Well…I'm gonna be completely honest with you, Chase: I'm surprised." Chase chuckled at the statement, prowling closer to the teen. "Well, that _is_ honest," he grinned. Slowly coming to the realization that though the form was different, this was still the Chase he knew, Jack shifted slightly in the grass of the meadow they were in, moving into a cross-legged position. "So, if you don't mind me asking," he began, "what, uh…what exactly _are_ you?" Feeling a bit playful, Chase knocked the goth backwards onto the ground, holding him there. "I suppose I am what you would call an 'alien'," he informed. "I was originally born on a planet not all that far from here; the environment there is quite similar to your grasslands and tropical forests, hence my species' reptilian appearance." "I thought you looked a little like a komodo dragon," Jack chimed in. At the roll of his golden eyes, the youth apologized, "Sorry for interrupting; please continue, I swear I'll shut up." "Thank you," Chase nodded. "As I was about to say, I came to this planet in search of a lifemate, as I am at the proper age and I cannot leave my people without an heir-" "An heir?" Jack wondered. "You royalty or something?" "Yes," he informed the human. "And I have asked you out here tonight because I want _you_ to rule alongside me." Red eyes went wide and the goth sputtered, "Wh-what, _me_?! Why would you want _me_?" "Why _wouldn't_ I want you?" Chase inquired. "I understand you may be seen as odd and unappealing on your planet, but by mine and my planet's standards, you are quite attractive." He bent to nuzzle his snout against the albino's neck, purring, "You aren't just a pretty face, either; your intelligence would be considered above average amongst _my_ people, much less amongst yours. Besides that, you're interesting and not a bad conversationalist: you are the _perfect_ candidate to be my lifemate, Spicer." "Wait, wait, wait," Jack stopped. "What about the whole 'heir' thing? I'm a dude: I don't make babies." Chase merely laughed, assuring, "My race is far advanced past yours in the fields of technology. We have long ago reached the point where all that's truly needed to create children is DNA samples of the would-be parents, so the two of us could easily provide an heir to my kingdom whenever we please, despite the fact that we are both male." Jack made a thoughtful noise, appearing to be considering the offer; Chase silently let the human mull everything over in his head for a moment. "I wouldn't be a total freak there 'cause I don't have scales?" the goth wondered. "No," Chase assured him. "Though a human has never been brought to my planet, your attractive coloring and similar body shape will likely be enough to assure you acceptance." The youth thought a little longer before coming up with, "And the technology's better than here?" "Of course," the reptile nodded, "and there shall be plenty of gadgets for you to play around with to your heart's content." He was sure he had the youth now; there was no _way_ he could resist such a tempting offer! "Last question," Jack spoke firmly, "You're not gonna be in that form _all_ the time, are you? 'Cause there's nothing wrong with it; it's pretty hot, actually, but…" His eyes glanced to Chase's sharp claws and sharp teeth, grimacing. "I can think of a couple situations where claws and fangs would _not_ be good for me." Chase grinned at the human's final objection. "I assure you, it is common tradition for one in my position to assume the species of my lifemate for the majority of the time. As for the rest of it, well…" He lowered his snout to give the husky purr of, "You could do with a little kinkiness in bed, couldn't you?" "Sold," Jack decided happily, wrapping his arms around the alien creature's scaled neck, "you've got yourself a lifemate!"

Spiritual- Chase Young sat perfectly still, perfectly silent for a long, long while, doing nothing more than contemplating what he should be saying. "I have _much_ to say," he conceded eventually, "many things I _should_ have said already." He sighed at the lack of response, feeling a bit responsible for the fact that Spicer, the boy who normally _never_ shut up would no longer speak to him. "I suppose I should start by saying I never _truly_ hated you. You annoyed me at times," he admitted with what was _almost_ a shrug (because Chase Young _did not_ shrug), "but it was never hate." Still nothing; the warlord supposed he would have to get used to this. "I believe I was mostly annoyed that you could not keep your attention on one thing for very long, and that when you did, you never thought things through. I know how high your IQ is, and I know that your idea of cheating on the IQ test was glancing at your neighbor's paper occasionally so that you could answer _in_correctly." The man allowed a half-chuckle, half-snort to escape him. "Even so, one hundred and eighty-seven…remarkable! As a famous woman once said, 'when someone is too smart, it goes around in a circle and gets stupid again'; truly a genius, but too socially retarded for it to shine through." Chase ran a hand through his hair, sighing, "I think that was frustrating to me about you, as well. I could see you had potential, Spicer, but you were wasting it frivolously, frittering away your time with building robots that couldn't so much as muss up your enemies' hair before they were crushed to scrap metal. I suppose it never even occurred to you to build them better," he guessed. "Your head was likely too wrapped around the idea of building so many that you would overwhelm the Xiaolin with sheer _numbers_ as opposed to turning your attention to simply building them with better _quality_." As expected, even such a statement would not get a rise out of the goth, and Chase found himself sighing again. "I am sorry, Spicer," he apologized, sincerity in his tone. "Had I been just a second quicker, your potential would not have been so cruelly wasted. You could have done great things, just as you always wanted; perhaps…" He turned away, frowning. "Perhaps we could have _been_ something together." Sighing once more, the warlord stood to the sound of silence. "You could never truly inflict evil yourself, but your heart was cruel and malicious; it should please you to know that the Dragon who did this to you nearly committed suicide in his grief over it and has become an active cutter." Sparing a bit of his magic, the warlord caused the candle at the foot of the obsidian headstone to alight. "I miss you already, Spicer," he said quietly to the silent grave, and just as he was leaving, Chase could have sworn that the wind rustling through the trees gave him a heartfelt, 'thanks…'

Supernatural- Jack yawned, dragged into consciousness by the telltale 'thump' of the morning newspaper (which was somehow still delivered here, even after so many years). He sat up on the couch upon which he'd mistakenly fallen asleep last night and gave his muscles a much needed stretch before standing to his feet. Because of the early hour, the young man made the mistake of going to the door to collect the godforsaken paper without first asking for blatant permission. The very second the door moved inwards under the albino's hand, it slammed shut with a BANG and a familiar _cold_ that he figured he would never quite get used to overtook his whole body, numbing him inside out. His own hand shot to his throat, squeezing threateningly. _"Do not tell me you were considering **leaving**, Spicer,"_ a voice hissed in his head. _"If that is the case, I may just have kill you before your time…"_ "No," he gasped out through his tight grip upon his own windpipe, "I wasn't…! I just forgot!" _"A terrible **lie**,"_ the voice commented, the forced hold only tightening dispassionately. "R-really," he begged, finding breath increasingly rare, "I wouldn't leave you, Chase! Th…the newspaper boy woke me up again and it totally slipped my mind to ask you before going; I'm sorry!" The goth could feel the poltergeist probing his mind, confirming his statement as an absolute truth; having done so, he allowed the white hand to fall from the youth's neck and released his hold over the mortal altogether. The cold disappeared from Jack's body, but he could still feel it hovering close by. _"You cannot leave,"_ the specter spoke, sounding much less intimidating and almost pleading. _"I forbid it."_ "Chase," the still-living resident of the house breathed, "I don't _want_ to leave you. You have to _believe_ that." _"Can you blame me?"_ he inquired. _"You are the only one who has ever set foot into this house and chosen to stay, Spicer. Am I wrong in wanting to keep you?"_ Jack sighed, but smiled and assured, "No, but you could definitely ease up on the choke-chain, hon. I mean, its only a couple of months until that lunar eclipse thing, right? Then we can haunt the house together, like we said we'd do." The cold spot about the goth warmed marginally at his words. _"You…truly **do** want to be dead with me, don't you Spicer?"_ "Of course," the youth said, glancing across the foyer to the large portrait upon the wall, depicting through paint the flesh and bone version of the Chinese haunt. "If we're both ectoplasm or whatever it is you are right now, I'll be able to see you outside of acrylics from the Victorian era, and we can...well, _you know…_" Chase certainly _did_ know what the mortal meant and his ghostly form, invisible to the naked eye, smiled despite itself. _"Yes, my Jack,"_ he purred, _"we shall be together soon: in death and in bed…"_

Suspense- Jack was not sure what this Shen Gong Wu was actually called, but he knew what it _should_ be called: The Jigsaw-Style Popularity Contest. The goth was shocked to the core that the _good guys_ would make such a thing, much less use it on someone, even an evil someone, but that wasn't so much the issue as was his impending demise. The Wu in question was an hourglass, filled with blood-red sand. This seemed normal, of course, but it happened to have a particularly odd anomaly attached: tentacles; two, huge, powerful tentacles that sort of reminded Jack of the Pokemon, Kabuto at the tips of them. Omi had tagged Chase with whatever this thing was, and apparently, its function was to seize the two people most important to whoever'd been tagged and hold them hostage, forcing a choice between the two; whoever was not chosen would then get their stomach torn open by the spikes that would be the legs of the Kabuto were the tentacle-tips actually the Pokemon in question while the other would go free. Sure, he'd been expecting Wuya to be caught by the Wu: her and Chase were allied with each other, so it was natural that the witch would be important to the warlord. It had been deeply honoring to be the second person picked up by the nightmarish clawed tentacle, despite the fact that it was life-threatening. "Go on," Dojo encouraged from the sidelines, "make your choice, Chase! If time runs out before you choose, it'll destroy them both!" Almost instinctively, the goth glanced to the hourglass from which the tentacle-like appendages sprung, nervously noting that the sand would be falling completely to the bottom in about a minute unless his mathematical guess was wrong (fat chance). The spiked claws that served to both clamp over his mouth and hold his body aloft (the former purpose likely put in place to force the one who'd been tagged to make the decision on their own) abruptly dug into his stomach just a bit in threatening and he winced; Wuya was undergoing the same treatment to his left, he was sure. Jack could feel his idol's golden eyes flickering back and forth between the two of them, but there was no time for the man to make a decision as thoroughly thought out as it should be; he decided he would _have_ to step in. Making use of his flexibility, the goth bent his spine as far back as he could, separating his face from the claws that kept him silent. "Chase," he spoke quickly, "pick Wuya; you need her. I mean, I may not have lived as long as I was hoping, but it was a full life and everything, so…so just go ahead and pick her already!" The Wu, sensing somehow that one of its two captives had partially freed itself, sprung another tentacle from the base of the hourglass altogether (this one without claws, thankfully) which wrapped around the base of his skull and mouth, effectively silencing him again. Jack nonetheless sighed through his nose, his eyes falling shut in his confidence of having done the right thing for the man he loved. "Jack Spicer." His eyes shot open and he stared at the warlord in disbelief. Chase looked directly at him, expression firm and serious as he reiterated, "I choose to spare Jack Spicer's life." All at once, the claws and the third tentacle retracted from the goth's body, dropping him to the ground with a thud and Wuya's fate became infinitely less lucky; her abdomen was pierced viciously by the claws which curled inwards and tore outwards, blood misting from her as her entrails fell out of her body with a sickening plop. Jack stared in mild horror as Wuya's lifeless body was unceremoniously thrown aside, the tentacle retreating into the now seemingly-innocent hourglass before he stood to face his evil hero. "What the hell?!" he demanded. "I told you to save _her_, not me! _She_ was your ally, Chase, _she_ was useful to you! I'm…" his words trailed off for a moment, but he managed to admit, "I'm _not_…" With all the monks watching, Chase stepped closer to him, blankly stating, "She _was_ my ally, Spicer, that and nothing more. _Your_ worth is more to me than that of a mere ally." With those mysterious words, the warlord was then gone, leaving Jack with a good deal to think about.

**A/N: All the fiction genres I could think of in a single sitting! :D**

Well anyways, this worked well for me on the last one of these, so here we go! ;P  


**_Adventure-_ To quote a boy by the name of Flapjack...****"_ADVENTURE_!" XD**

_Drama-_ Chase Young being into daytime TV dramas amuses me greatly. XD Also, despite the fact that Crashbox is a show meant for a much younger audience than me, it is still win (if just for the Gremlin that appears occasionally in the Distraction News segment). ;P

_Family-_ Yeah, yeah, its mpreg. So what? Wanna fight about it? The whole miniature story-arc I have in here has been attacking my brain for a month or so, and I felt like I needed to get it out. o.o Oh, also, 'Zhu' is a female Chinese name meaning, "pearl."

_Tragedy-_ Continuation of 'Family' about ten years in the future; Hannibal Bean is like if the biggest dick in the world had sex with the biggest pedophile in the world and they had a baby. He is that baby. D:

_Angst-_ A _direct_ continuation of 'Tragedy'.

_Fantasy-_ Bahahaha! Satyr-Jack is lollerskates! XD

_Humor-_ I'd provide a link to this article, but Fanfiction seems to enjoy feasting upon links, so...sorry 'bout that. I assure you it exists though, as impossibly ridiculous as it seems! XD  


**_Sci-Fi-_ I think it was Ch4ckSl4sher who had a journal up awhile ago mentioning Independence Day; somebody made a reference to Chase being an alien, and I realized that that might be an interesting concept. I ran with it, as you can see! ;P**

_Spiritual-_ The woman I'm referencing is Rita Rudner. Also it doesn't matter which monk killed Jack, but just for the sake of not being asked questions, let's say it was Rai. XD

Everything else that isn't mentioned, I have no comment on it. Hope you liked Genres of Chack! :D  
  
**Oh, and of course, Happy New Year! :)**


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